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Aya glanced behind her. The valley would corner off soon, and she felt surer than sure in her mind that they were almost at the temple. She could almost feel Llyliana willing her to go forward just a little more.
“Your Seer has been waiting for long enough that an extra hour won’t hurt,” Villid said to Aya. “Eat. You’ll feel better.”
Aya couldn’t deny that her stomach had been rumbling for several hours now. She agreed, and they built a campfire next to the river. Villid caught several more fish and soon the delicious smell of cooking wafted around them. Villid offered some cooked fish to Acotas, but he gave an offended whinny and clopped off to sniff a nearby bush.
Aya gazed at the roaring natural beauty of the waterfall, where spray from the water
cast miniature rainbows here and there near the rock. Villid watched her when he thought she wasn’t looking, and remembered the night in Fort Valour when he’d longed so much to kiss her. He wondered what might have happened if she’d woken up and seen him. Part of him wished she had.
The valley was strange, and they saw nobody as they ventured along. Although the mountains towered above them like curtains, they were bare, and mostly bore landslides or flat grass; if anyone was following or watching them, they would know about it straight away. Sometimes they’d see a hare scamper along before disappearing down a hole, or see hawks circle above the hills in search of lunch. As the sun was going down, they had covered most of the valley, and were circling round a large hill. Aya saw it before Villid did, and gasped.
The valley sloped down further, until reaching a flattened, round field surrounded by cliff sides, completely protected. In the middle was the old temple. Stone steps led up a tall, spiral tower made of greyish stone. It was taller than any of the trees surrounding it, with two grand, spiked walls on the roof. It looked as if a mage had taken his staff and buried it into the earth.
“This is it!” Aya gasped, as they made their way down to the plain. The tower was so far away that when they drew closer, they started to realise how huge the temple really was. The tallest trees around it barely reached half its height.
“This is where Llyliana and the servant girls are,” Aya breathed as they got closer to the temple. They could see uneven stone steps circling up and around the tower. Large birds were flying above the top of it, circling and flapping their great wings. They gave Villid an uneasy feeling, for a reason he couldn’t contemplate.
“So, is this it?” he asked finally, as they reached the foot of the huge temple. It towered above them, the sun winking behind it.
“Is it... what?” asked Aya, who had already begun to approach the tower.
“I can’t come with you, can I?” he asked flatly. “If your Seer sees me, she’ll panic. I don’t want to scare her. And you might want to head back to your village once you’ve found her...”
“Villid,” Aya said quietly. They looked at each other for a
moment.
“I didn’t think of that,” she said. “I suppose I... got used to you being with me. I can convince them you don’t want to hurt them. Perhaps we could work something out with you and her – some agreement, or a treaty...”
Villid looked at her. He knew it now – he didn’t want her to leave him. “Aya,” he said softly, sighing to himself. “You... you need what’s best for you. You need your Seer. She’s up there waiting for you, isn’t she?”
Aya nodded slowly. “And what about you?” she asked. “You can’t go back to the Tyrans, can you?”
Of course he couldn’t. Shade will have made sure everyone in Xentar thought it was he who had killed the Seer and then run away with an
Elf. He was branded a traitor of the worst kind. “If the Tyrans still believed in the Dragons, none of this would have happened.”
he said bitterly.
‘
But I wouldn’t have met you, either.’
he thought, gazing down at the E
lf he now cared about, in her too-big tunic, her long, rippling black hair that was coming loose from its bow, and her sword at her hip, her eyes wide and nervous. She was looking back at him, as if she’d heard the thoughts in his mind. “I’m going up there,” she said. “Llyliana needs me. Wait here, Villid. I’ll talk to her, tell her everything, and she’ll understand.
I promise.”
She gave him a worried half-smile, and then turned her back and ran to the tower towards the steep stone steps. Villid watched her until she reached them, when she looked
back for a moment, and began to ascend the steps that wound round and round the tower. Villid sighed, patting Acotas, who butted him gently with his head. “The
Elf Seer won’t understand,” Villid muttered to himself. “She saw us kill her people.”
Every now and then he’d see Aya as she made her way up the stairs that circled up and around the temple tower. Eventually he lost sight of her, and amused himself by talkin
g to Acotas.
‘He really is a magnificent horse,’
Villid mused. The stallion’s speckled, dark-grey coat shined with health, and his black mane and tail were thick and long. Villid fed Acotas some nuts from a bag, and petted his silk-soft nose with the back of his hand. “Where did you come from, hmm?” he asked. It was still a mystery how such a strong, young stallion had been snatched by a couple of human bandits – and who it might belong to. Villid had been concerned that someone in Fort Valour might recognise the horse – it was certainly stronger and bigger than any average stable pony.
Villid waited for several minutes, wondering what Aya was saying, and whether the Seer was listening. He imagined them, finally reunited, making their way back to the eastern forest, back to try and reclaim their lost village. The thought of Aya travelling without him filled him with great sadness that he felt unfamiliar with. He could offer to accompany them back to the village before he made his way to... where? He didn’t know. Perhaps he would go
back to Fort Valour and start a life with the outcast Tyrans. Life ahead of him now seemed a long stretch of pointlessness. Villid lay down on the grass and watched the clouds sail by in the sky. Acotas lost interest with him and started to amble away. Villid picked at the grass beside him, unable to ignore the sinking feeling in
his chest. He cared about Aya
now,
he knew that much. And now he felt as if he was losing her.
Villid frowned as he watched the dark, winged shapes circling around the top of the tower. Strange, how those big birds flew so high up. Almost as if there was food up there. Almost as if…
Then a blood-curdling shriek suddenly pierced the air like a knife, making Villid’s blood run cold. He scrambled to his feet. It was coming from the top of the tower. Another scream echoed around them. A terrified scream from only someone in immense pain...
“Aya!” he shouted, fear flooding through his body. He bolted towards the stone steps and climbed, three at a time, pulling himself up them and around the tower. He panted heavily as he climbed; the steps were narrow and steep, he’d climbed too fast, and now he felt a stabbing pain in his ribcage as he panted.
“I’m coming, Aya,” he whispered. He would never forgive himself if something had happened to Aya, never...
The steps never seemed to end, winding round and round the mountain. He wouldn’t let himself slow down. His
heart thumped so hard it felt as if it were about to burst from his chest... sweat prickled on his forehead, his muscles were burning, he panted as he pushed up the tower. He was near the top, he felt as if his lungs were about to explode as he pushed up the last few steps, before he finally came to the peak of the huge tower, holding his ribcage and panting painfully.
“Aya?” he called.
He was standing on the roof, which dipped inwards like a bowl. Several tall stone pillars stood in a circle. He could hear sobbing behind one of them.
“Aya?” then Villid saw her, kneeling the middle of the dipped circle, her back to him, her hands in her long, dark hair. He ran to her – she wasn’t surrounded by Darkma, as he expected. But as he ran closer, he saw why she had screamed.
Hanging on one of the pillars, wrist and ankles tied with bloodied rope, was a body. Her ripped white robes were streaked with dirt and blood. Her head hung down, covered by her long, lank hair. Villid knew who she was before Aya whispered her name.
Llyliana was dead.
Aya knelt on the ground where she had collapsed. Villid knelt beside her, and stared in despair at the
E
lf Seer’s corpse, tied to a pillar like a criminal punished and left for the birds. Villid understood now why so many birds circled the tower. Llyliana’s skin had started to rot and fall from
her bones, and chunks of her hair had fallen out and been swept away in the wind.
Aya started howling, tears running down her cheeks, thumping the ground with her fists, screaming in the Elven language. “Praii radna!” she sobbed. “Llyliana, sanktin! Praii radna!”
She didn’t seem to notice Villid, who didn’t know what to do. Aya was hitting the ground so hard that her knuckles bled, but she didn’t seem to care. “I’ve failed!” Aya cried. “She’s been killed! We’re too late!”
“Aya,” he said desperately. She ignored him, and clutched at her robes, losing all control. “I should have come sooner!
Why
didn’t we come sooner?”
Aya scrambled to her feet. Speckles
of blood ran down her fists. Sh
e pulled her sword out of its sheath, and held it above her, blade pointing downwards, in her trembling hands.
“I’m sorry, Talgi!” she cried into the howling wind, which blew her robes and hair round her face. “I’m sorry, Llyliana! Father, Flint, mother, Seers, I’ve failed you all!” she pointed the blade towards her stomach, and gave a wild scream.
“No!” Villid cried, and jumped to her. He grabbed her wrists, which shook as she tried to pull herself from his grip. “Don’t do it, Aya!”
“Get off me! I’ve failed my people!” she shouted. “I must – I must do this! I have to die! It was my duty to protect
Llyliana, and now she lies dead, because of me! Let go!” she raged, but he held on; he was too strong for her. He pulled the sword from her grasp and lunged it from them; it sailed over the roof and fell onto the stone steps with a loud clang. Villid pulled Aya round forcefully to face him, holding her shoulders. “Please, Aya,” he begged her. “I can’t lose you.” He pulled her into a fierce hug until she stopped struggling, and held her tightly. “It’s not your fault,” he whispered.
Aya’s tear-streaked face lay against Villid’s chest, until she gently pulled away to look at him. “Villid,” she whispered.
It seemed an eternity where they just looked at each other. He felt desperate. The thought of Aya dying terrified him. “If you were to die, I would be the first to follow you,” he choked, clutching her shoulders. Tears dribbled down her cheeks at his words. Before she knew it, she was embracing him, circling her arms round his neck as she felt his strong arms wrap round her waist. Her cheek pressed against his, they held each other. Aya felt calmer; peace stole over her as she felt Villid hold her tightly to him.
She felt his lips brush her shoulder and held onto him, closing her eyes. She felt safe, secure now, as he held her to him.
A sharp chuckle...
Aya’s eyes snapped open and she looked around them. Villid backed from Aya. “Did you hear that?” he whispered.
They looked round. The stone pillars surrounded them, the dark clouds in the sky shielded the sun from illuminating any signs of enemies.
“Show yourself!” Villid said, clutching at his sword.
No one answered. Cautiously they approached the pillars, and peered round them. There was no one there. The temple was deserted, except Villid, Aya and Llyliana’s body.
Aya approached the Seer again and gazed up at
her sadly. “I can’t believe she’s gone,” she said. “It was safe here, protected by magic. If only we’d come here sooner…” she turned to Villid. “Who could have done this?” she whispered.
Villid didn’t answer. She could have been killed by Darkma, stray animals, or – Villid’s chest tightened – other Tyrans, set on finishing the job...
Villid shook his head, trying to convince himself. It was him the Tyrans wanted, not Llyliana. Unless they had just killed her for sport...
“I want to bury her,” Aya stated, unwrapping the cloak that had hung from her shoulders. “She’s our last Seer; she deserves a real burial.”
Aya started to untie Llyliana’s hands with trembling fingers. Villid helped her, and soon was carrying the
E
lf’s beaten body down the temple steps, wrapped up in Aya’s dark cloak. The wind was picking up, and they hurried as quickly as they dared down the steep stone staircase that would lead them back to the mountainside, and their grey
stallion. The horse had retreated to some nearby trees, and greeted them with a soft snort as they approached.
Llyliana’s final resting place, Aya chose, was between two tall trees directly behind the temple, close to a jagged cliff.
“How do you bury your dead?” Villid asked, sure the Elf traditions would be different to the Tyrans’.
“We cover them in flowers and sing hymns for their departing,” said Aya quietly, as Villid helped her dig a large, long hole in the ground. They lowered Llyliana’s body into it, and picked flowers from the nearby grass. Aya covered Llyliana’s body in petals, then refilled the hole. She took some seeds from the plants and placed them into the dirt.
“Now flowers can grow where she rests,” Aya sighed. “I regret I can’t give the Seer the burial she deserves.”
Villid stood back and watched as Aya raised her hands to the trees and the sky, murmuring in the Elven language, prayers and blessings.
As the sun started to sink behind the mountains, Aya and Villid built a fire close to Llyliana’s grave, but away from the trees. They piled on sticks and leaves until a bright bonfire flickered and crackled. It was warm, and Acotas the stallion lay near to it, the flames reflecting in his glassy black eyes.
Aya glanced nervously at Villid. “I’m no singer,” she said, “But... it’s tradition. I didn’t get the opportunity to do this for my brother or my father. It’s the least I can do for the Seer.”
Embracing the sky, Aya began to sing the traditional sonnet of death and passing. It was mournful and slow, each note complimenting the next. The words, Villid later found out, were similar to this.